5. Charlie
Milly’s name comes up when my phone rings. It’s just after three in the afternoon, and I’m not long back from the client I went out to see this morning. Instead of a car, there’s now a blue pickup truck in Troy’s driveway. I recognize it. It belongs to his dad. So either Troy has been out, or his father has come to visit and left him the truck.
Why do you care?
I don’t.
Right.
I dump my portfolio case on the island in the kitchen, and I’m already worrying about how this new development is going to pan out. Am I going to have to sneak in and out of my own house so I don’t have to see him?
It’s worrying, to say the least.
Lifting my phone, I hit the green button.
“Am I forgiven yet?” Milly says without even saying hello.
I sigh. “Sure. Though you at least should have let Troy know. He nearly went into cardiac arrest when he saw me this morning.”
“I heard,” she says. “He came over to see us.”
Well, that answers that conundrum. And then I realize what Milly means. “He told your Mom and Dad?” I nearly shriek.
“No, no. Just me. He hasn’t mentioned you to Mom and Dad, but you know they wouldn’t care either way, Charlie. They always did like the idea of you and Troy being together.”
“Not going to happen,” I snap.
“I know. I know,” she coos. “I was actually calling for an entirely different reason. I wanted to make it up to you. Do you fancy dinner tonight?”
“Oh, Mil, I’m slammed. I have so much work—”
“Come on, Charlie. We haven’t been out for ages. Besides, I’ve already booked the table. If you don’t show, I’ll lose my deposit.”
Milly always does this. She has this skillful way of always managing to talk you around, no matter what it was or how busy you were. Her father, Mr. Heaton, always chuckled and called her a master manipulator. I can’t say I disagree with him. We’ve been friends for what feels like forever, and I’ve seen her in action many times.
“Fine,” I relent. There’s no point in doing anything else. She’ll just make me feel guilty somehow.
“Yay!” she cries. “Okay. Withering’s at 6:45 sharp.”
“I’ll see you there,” I say before hanging up.
It’s Thursday night, and Withering’s is packed with the local clientele. I went with smart casual and wore a pencil dress with heels. It’s too warm for a jacket, so I brought a light chiffon scarf.
Sheila, the hostess and a woman I’ve known since high school, greets me as I enter. “Hey, Charlie,” she says with a warm smile. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“It’s the price of success,” I joke. “More clients means less time.”
“Yes, but more money, right?” she counters.
“A girl’s gotta eat,” I banter back. “Speaking of eating, I’m meeting Milly for dinner. Is she here yet?”
“Oh, sure. Your party’s in the back.” Sheila points toward the back of the restaurant. It’s a small, intimate area with a few tables, affectionately known by all the locals as the snug.
I frown, and I’m about to ask her what party when someone comes in behind me and takes her attention. Still frowning, I begin to weave my way through the tables to get to where Sheila directed me. As I round the corner to the snug, my brow furrows even deeper.
“Charlie.” Milly waves at me from the far end of a large table.
It’s not actually a large table; clearly, all the smaller tables have been pushed together to form a large table. But that’s not the surprising—or should I say, confusing—part. What’s really baking my noodle is the fact that the snug is full of people I’ve known for years, and they’re all seated around the gathered tables.
As I pass each one, they all greet me.
“Hey, Charlie,” Chris Phillips says.
Mike Walden lifts a hand. “Good to see you, Charlie.”
“Hi, Charlie. How’s it going?” Dave Kilburn asks.
“Good, Dave, what about you?” I reply, stopping beside him.
Dave—a big burly guy who, once upon a time, used to be a muscular broad linebacker, but whose love of beer has changed his physique rather dramatically—shrugs and looks complacent. “Ah, you know. Same old, same old. You look great, though.” He smiles, his eyes flicking over my figure.
“You’re married,” I smirk, “remember?”
“Hey, no harm in looking,” he sniggers back.
I roll my eyes and give him a lopsided grin. He was always an opportunist with the girls. Not me, of course; I was too dorky to warrant his attention back then. Strange how the tables turn, isn’t it?
I scan my eyes over all those gathered, still wondering what on Earth is going on. Milly invited me to dinner to say sorry for not giving me a heads-up about Troy’s arrival. So why are all these people here?
When you live in a small town, one of two things happens. Either the people who grew up there stay put and set down roots to raise their own family, or they move away and never return. Every single person at this table, apart from two, still lives in the town. Which makes me wonder why those who moved away are here right now.
“Milly,” I say when I finally reach her. “What’s going on?”
She gives me a quick glance, and in her usual hyperactive way, says, “I will tell you, Charlie, but right now, I have to go and do something. Here. Take a seat.” She points to a chair on my left.
A second later, the whirlwind that is my best friend suddenly spins away and flies off in the direction I have just come from.
“Hi, Charlie,” Kate Black says as I sit down beside her. Kate and I were in the same class at school. She’s now settled down with her childhood sweetheart and about to add another addition to their family of four.
I glance down at her large, swollen belly. “It can’t be long now,” I say.
“No, thank heavens,” she sighs with a pleasant smile. “I’m at the stage where I just want it out of me.”
“How long ‘til you’re due?” I ask.
“Four weeks,” she replies.
“It’ll fly by,” I say, waving a dismissive hand and sounding like I know what I’m talking about.
Of course, I have absolutely no clue. While I have not admitted it to any other person, not even Milly, I do want children of my own someday. The worry is that my biological clock looks like the speedometer of a rally driver, and I’m starting to fear that it’s not going to happen for me. Eddy was supposed to be the father of my children. As it happens, one woman wasn’t enough for him.
I’m draping my scarf across the back of my chair and placing my purse on the floor by my feet when an almighty cheer roars from those at the table, scaring me half to death. When I jerk my head up to see what on Earth is going on, this whole scenario becomes clearer than my windows after a spring clean.
Milly is standing beside her brother, who looks as astounded as I feel. The men are chanting, “Bring the heat! Bring the heat!” Upon hearing it, Troy seems to recover far more quickly than I do as he laughs at the guys’ antics.
It was a play on his name when they all used to play football for the school team. The jocks being, well, jocks. Of course, Troy was a main player, and being fast and muscular gave him somewhat of a reputation on and off the field.
I’m still completely gobsmacked, and as Milly scans the room, looking utterly delighted with herself for managing to surprise her older brother, she catches my eye. The huge grin suddenly falls, and she looks at me sheepishly. I can feel annoyance welling up in me, but I bite it back. I can’t kill her in this room; there are too many witnesses.
My glare moves from Milly to Troy, who is currently looking at me with the same surprise he expressed upon his arrival. After my antics this morning, he’s probably wondering what the devil I’m doing here. I have to admit, I’m wondering the same thing.
I could leave. I could make my excuses and sneak away. I’ll bet no one would even notice. But surely I’m being childish. Am I not a grown woman who runs her own successful business? Shouldn’t I be able to handle this situation?
Yes. And… no.
Suck it up, Charlie. Leaving now will make you the talk of the town. Just act natural.
Sure, of course. Because that’s totally easy under the circumstances, isn’t it? Maybe I shouldn’t have swerved to avoid Mrs. Burton yesterday evening. At least being in jail would’ve given me a good excuse not to be here.
After the meal and lots of banter and chatter, with fourteen people all having completely different conversations, I get up and make my way to the bar. I don’t drink; I have my father’s antics to thank for that. I just need a little breathing space. I never was good with crowds. Being an only child, I got used to enjoying my own company.
I order a Coke and wait for the bartender to deliver. A second later, I feel someone come and stand beside me. I don’t need to look over to see who it is. Like some sixth sense, I just know it’s him.
“Hey,” Troy says.
“Hey,” I say back.
I pin on a smile. It stops him from seeing the inner turmoil of my lurching stomach as his soft woody scent floats over to greet me. Like that schoolgirl all those years ago, I am, once more, reduced to a nervous wreck.
Well, okay. Maybe not a nervous wreck. I’m far more confident now than I have ever been in my entire life. And yet, the presence of this man, standing not a foot away, seems to undermine my ability to hold my own. Not that I’m going to let him see that.
Besides, beneath the nervousness remains the anger at what he did to me ten years ago. I should be grateful that I was best friends with his sister, or I might have thought of every worst-case scenario after he disappeared. But when she told me he had left, and when I realized he was not returning, I spent quite some time going through the stages of grief.
The thing is, I didn’t realize that I still held some anger. It is only his return that has made me aware that I didn’t process all the emotions I thought I had.
“Thanks for coming tonight. I figured after this morning”—he shrugs—“that you wouldn’t want to be here.”
I could be brutally honest. I could tell him that I would not have come, had his little sister not tricked me. But as he gazes at me, those dark brown eyes like swirling pools of delight, I just can’t put him through it. I’m angry, but I just can’t be that cruel.
“I was in a hurry,” I say.
The corner of his mouth lifts in a crooked smile. A smile that tells me he doesn’t believe me for a second. I can’t lie to save my life, but he knows that.
“Right.” He nods emphatically. “Or maybe you just wanted to get away from me as fast as humanly possible.” He pauses for a beat and then says, “You know, I hear they’re looking for drivers at NASCAR. You should think about applying.”
Maybe it’s the nerves, or maybe it’s because he always could make me laugh, but a giggle trickles past my lips, surprising even me. All those years ago, he had this same ability; apparently, he hasn’t lost it. I gaze at him, and he’s smiling that wide, full-lipped smile. A curl of his brown hair has fallen over his broad forehead, and I nearly lift my hand to push it back.
Nearly.
“I didn’t know,” Troy says, taking me off guard.
I look at him in bewilderment. “Didn’t know what?” I ask.
“That you were living next door.” He looks worried, and I suspect that he wonders if I think he chose that house on purpose.
“Yes. I know,” I say, wanting to put him at ease. “Milly told me.”
“Yes,” he says knowingly. “My little sister has a lot to answer for.”
There’s a long silence. I could agree, but I’d be doing it for the sake of filling the quiet. Strangely, I’ve always been quite comfortable with silences in conversations. Nearly everyone I know feels the need to fill them, but I’ve always felt that there was no point in meaningless conversation. It was one of the things Troy told me he liked about me when we first started dating.
Maybe he can’t tolerate it any longer because he says, “If this is going to be too awkward, I can move.”
I shake my head and frown, as though his presence next door has not put me through utter turmoil since his arrival. “Don’t be silly,” I hear myself say. “We’re both adults, Troy.”
After a moment”s silence, he nods. “Well, as long as you’re sure.”
I nod. “Of course.”
Inside, however, my mind is giving me full-on face slaps for not having the guts to tell him how I really feel. To tell him that him moving somewhere else would make my life far easier, thank you very much.
You are a coward, Charlie Woods.
Yes. Yes, I am.